


tbd

by rohpsohpic



Series: you don't need the whole story (to know how it ends) [2]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Ambiguous Relationships, Break Up, Drinking, Driving, Established Relationship, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Taxis
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 07:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16081385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rohpsohpic/pseuds/rohpsohpic
Summary: Jun is a cab driver with a college boyfriend whom he intends to keep. But as everyone else changes in flashes of green glass and car doors, Jun and Wonwoo can't seem to keep up.





	1. "You could have told me you had a night shift."

**Author's Note:**

> here is some more middle-of-the-night rambling
> 
> the first five chapters were beta-ed by user Cafil

“ _You’re working late again_?” Wonwoo’s voice sounds through Jun’s tinny speakers.

Jun smiles apologetically even though he knows Wonwoo can’t see him through his phone.

Stretching one hand over the steering wheel, he says, “Yeah. I’ll be back in another hour or two.”

“ _You could have told me you had a night shift_ ,” Wonwoo says, and the slight hurt in his voice makes Jun bite his lip. He starts to open his mouth to promise that he’ll plan ahead for the next party, but Wonwoo quickly switches tones, lightening the air. “ _Joshua and Mingyu are making us a feast. A feast, Jun. I don’t know if they’ll still be here in an hour or two. I don’t know if_ leftovers _will still be here in an hour or two._ ”

“Is everyone there?”

“ _Seungcheol is running late, but other than that, everyone’s here_.”

His lips dip into a frown. Seungcheol drags his feet and whines sometimes when he wants to be funny, but Seungcheol is also one of the most punctual men Jun knows. The words “Seungcheol” and “late” don’t seem to fit no matter how Jun tries to puzzle it out. “That’s unusual.”

Wonwoo is quiet for another moment, a sign of his agreement. Then he says, “ _I’ll save you some cake._ ”

“What would I do without you?” Jun smiles softly into the Seoul streets as Wonwoo hangs up to tend to their guests.

Jun has his own guest to attend to. He glances in the rear view to check on his passenger, a handsome young man who slouches in the back seat with disinterest. He isn’t sure whether the man has been listening in on his conversation, but the man spares him a glance as he closes his phone and tucks it away.

“Thanks for letting me make that call.”

The man scoffs noncommittally and looks out the tinted windows of the taxi. The world twinkles on the other side, unmoving. “We’re stuck in traffic anyway. If you have someone to talk to, then you might as well, right?”

“Might as well . . . ?”

“Talk,” the man repeats, sounding accustomed to having to explain himself. He continues to watch as pedestrians outpace their cab, oblivious to the traffic. This street isn’t getting unclogged anytime soon. “You might as well talk.”

Jun checks the rear view mirror and follows the man’s gaze, not sure if he’s catching some kind of wistfulness there. He notices the pedestrians and offers, gently, “You could get out and walk, you know.”

“Are you kicking me out?”

“No, I didn’t mean it like that,” Jun’s eyes widen at the man’s blunt question. The man chuckles in a way that says he doesn’t quite believe him, but when he makes no move to leave the cab, Jun relaxes. He taps his fingers lightly against the steering wheel, glancing ahead of them, but the other vehicles are as still as can be aside from a few cars impatiently trembling in place. The sight is familiar enough. “It’s just, I don’t know if you’re in a rush, but if you are, then it might be faster to walk while the traffic on the road is so heavy. It doesn’t look like we’re going anywhere in a while.”

“Yeah, well,” the man says, “Normally, I’d love a walk, but right now, I’m just kind of tired. No rush.”

Jun nods, letting his eyes sweep the street again. The cars in the next lane are moving, slowly, and he braces his hands on the wheel, knowing that his lane will likely start moving soon, too.

“Hey, look at that,” the man remarks, self-satisfied. He simmers into a wry smile, admiring the suddenly scrolling world outside. “We’re getting somewhere after all.”

They barely move half a meter before the traffic stops again.

“It was a step,” Jun sighs.

The passenger, he notes, doesn’t look the least bit perturbed by the holdup.

With his head leaned back against the seat and glassy eyes turned out the window, he looks almost serene. Jun worries about him falling asleep inside the cab. Jun is no stranger to waking people up—he’s an early riser—but usually, said people are Wonwoo. The passenger must have noticed Jun’s concern because he sighs, “I’m fine. You can stop looking at me like some puppy you found in the rain.”

“It’s not raining though?”

“It’s another . . . figure of speech or something,” the man shrugs, shifting his shoulders. They’re broad, Jun realizes for the first time, but the way he keeps them slumped close to his body makes them look smaller, like a bird holding its wings close to its body. Jun’s reverie breaks as traffic moves forward another precious meter. “You don’t have to keep making conversation.”

“I think you’re not tired enough to not want to talk,” Jun replies. “It doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He has a nose for these things.

“If you think I’m about to spill all my woes to some weird cab driver who makes phone calls in front of his passengers, then you’re sorely mistaken.”

“I was thinking about something more along the lines of the weather,” Jun says.

This succeeds in eliciting a small chuckle out of the man in the back. Jun smiles at his small victory.

“The weird cab driver’s name is Jun, by the way.”

The man makes no move to offer his own name and looks out the window as if he hasn’t heard, and Jun doesn’t ask. Jun has a feeling that that’s the extent of their conversation.

Much later, he drops the man off at a fancy hotel with dazzling lights that leave him a little gobsmacked.

“You don’t have to tip me,” Jun insists as the man flips singlemindedly through his wallet. “It’s late and you should go inside. I know the traffic was horrible.”

“The company wasn’t,” is all the passenger says in return.

It’s enough to shut Jun up. Jun doesn’t ask if he’s talking about the taxi company or, weirder, the human company, and it doesn’t really matter. He doesn’t know much about this mysterious passenger, but it doesn’t take a whole cab ride for him to be able to tell that the man has had a rough night.

The man digs out a few extra bills, a normal-sized tip, but he catches Jun’s eyes and holds them longer than normal as he hands it over. “You have someone waiting for you back at home. Have a safe night, okay?”

“You, too,” Jun manages, barely feeling the money as it’s lightly pressed into his hands.

The man turns, his unreadable eyes leaving Jun’s widened ones, and disappears into the hotel.

 

* * *

 

Jun hasn’t set foot inside his own apartment at all this week.

It’s not because it’s small. It’s not because he has never really gotten around to “interior decorating.” It’s not even because the last time he was there, he ordered pizza and forgot to throw away the box.

It’s because his apartment is on the other side of Seoul.

Headquarters is right in the heart of the city, right between their apartments, but Jun insists that it falls slightly closer to Wonwoo’s. Why drive that far when he can just sleep over? (His other friends insist that it’s just Jun’s excuse to hang out with Wonwoo.)

Sometimes, whenever one of them works long shifts at the airport, they’ll visit Jun’s apartment for a quick nap or a little break before setting off again. Sometimes, Wonwoo stays the night. They take turns like that. Jun’s mugs and trinkets collect on Wonwoo’s counters. Wonwoo’s books pile up on Jun’s unpacked cardboard boxes. Wonwoo’s apartment is practically his as much as his apartment is practically Wonwoo’s.

As he steps into Wonwoo’s apartment now, Jun is not surprised to see that he’s not the only one staying the night considering the party that had wrapped up an hour ago. The only surprising thing about this scene is that there’s only one other person instead of five or six. The party must not have escalated very far.

“Seungcheol showed up after all?” he guesses, looking down at said man’s sleeping form on their couch. Seungcheol always looks so much younger when he sleeps, even when there’s still a beer bottle loosely clutched in his hand. Jun gently wiggles it out and moves to set it on the counter.

Wonwoo is looking at Seungcheol with tired eyes. Jun’s mind flashes back to the passenger in the cab.

“He got kicked out of his apartment.”

Jun startles, nearly dropping the bottle. “What?”

“His boyfriend gave him an ultimatum, and he couldn’t give him an answer,” Wonwoo says, his voice calm and even, as if their friends get dumped all the time. He glances at Jun. Jun sees what he has always known. While Wonwoo’s voice is smooth, his eyes are pained. “They broke up.”

Jun’s hand is still on Seungcheol’s unfinished drink, half alcohol, half air. The two of them who are awake in this apartment don’t seem to know what to say next.

“I’ll make him breakfast,” Jun eventually says, finally letting go of the bottle. “We can give him that leftover cake, too.”

Wonwoo nods, a tentative smile stretching at his face with that mention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (i need to sleep, but i got tired of waiting so hello and good night)


	2. "I’m hungover, aren’t I?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this slice of life? hmm, must sleep on that
> 
> thoughts? thoughts

Seungcheol, to be honest, doesn’t look that great when he wakes up. And that's before he finds out that he has been recently dumped.

Jun is already in the kitchen when Seungcheol sits up from the couch and glances both ways, taking in Wonwoo’s apartment. He’s wearing last night’s clothes, and his hair is sticking up in strange spikes, and he smells like vomit that hasn't happened yet, but he doesn't seem to mind any of this as he says, quite matter-of-factly, “I’m hungover, aren’t I?”

“That would be an understatement,” Wonwoo says from his place at the table.

Wonwoo has his glasses on, paging slowly through a book, but he also has the uncanny ability to know exactly where everything stands in the apartment at any given time. Wonwoo chalks it up to being someone who actually pays attention to things. Jun chalks it up to spider senses.

Seungcheol attempts to sit up, groans, and lies back down.

“Told you,” Wonwoo says.

Jun shivers a little and focuses on scrambling eggs. “You can use the shower if you want. We’re still making breakfast.”

“I may still be kind of drunk, but I’m pretty sure Wonwoo isn’t cooking right now.”

“He’s moral support,” Jun says at the same time that Wonwoo says, “I’m moral support.”

Seungcheol cracks an eye open. Impressed.

“Honestly, sharing an apartment is starting to give you guys some kind of hive mind.”

“You’re hungover.”

“I am.”

Jun tries to shake the scrambled eggs onto a plate but resorts to scraping the scrambled eggs out of the frying pan with a single chopstick. He spares Seungcheol a glance as he lowers the pan. “Are you sure you don’t want to shower?”

“No thanks,” Seungcheol says. He has managed to pull himself up so that his head is leaning against the back of the couch. Seungcheol offers a smile and holds his arms out, rubbing his hands together and flexing his fingers. It’s easy to forget that he still has alcohol in his system when he acts like an excited kid. It’s easy to forget that he’s older than both of them. “Bring on the breakfast. Nature’s best hangover cure.”

“My name is Jun,” Jun corrects as he sets the plate down on the coffee table and folds Seungcheol’s hand around a pair of chopsticks.

“Jun is the best hangover cure,” Seungcheol says solemnly, then digs in.

Jun and Wonwoo trade glances over the pages of Wonwoo’s book and the top of Seungcheol’s head. They’re both thinking about the leftover cake that Wonwoo hid in the fridge. Wonwoo’s eyes dart to Seungcheol, who is zealously munching away at his small mountain of eggs, and shakes his head imperceptibly. The cake can wait.

Jun hesitates, but pulls himself away. The rest of the eggs are divided between Wonwoo and him.

“So, is anyone going to tell me why I’m here?” Seungcheol asks, looking up once he has finished clearing his plate.

When Jun and Wonwoo look at each other again, there’s dread mixed in.

 

* * *

 

Seungcheol takes the news about as well as one might expect.

Wonwoo meticulously summarizes the night, how a distraught Seungcheol had burst into the apartment late for the party and made a beeline for the beer. As he describes how Seungcheol had babbled bits and pieces of the story between huge, messy gulps, Jun looks down for the first time this morning and notices the round brown stains in Wonwoo’s carpet. Beer. Seungcheol’s face goes blank like a statue. The hungover sparkle in his eyes hollows out as he stares at the half-bottle that’s sitting on the counter, the same one that Jun had found in his hand the night before.

Wonwoo doesn't have to follow his empty eyes to know what he's contemplating. Lightly, he pauses mid-story to say, “It wasn’t your first.”

Wonwoo spares no detail about the party except for what came before it. He does not suggest anything about what the ultimatum was or add anything new to the narrative of how, exactly, Seungcheol broke up, and Jun gets the feeling that Wonwoo doesn’t know, either. But Seungcheol does, and as his memory comes back to him, he only turns stonier. Wonwoo has a distant look on his face as he recounts how Joshua had suggested that he stop and Seungcheol had snapped the same thing back at him. At this point, Seungcheol’s expression is so dark and Wonwoo’s expression so void that Jun excuses himself to grab the cake.

Jun finds it on the lower shelf of the fridge, hidden behind a forest of chilled beer bottles. He glances back at the somber scene in the living room, then carefully sets the bottles aside, pushing them into the deeper parts of the fridge before reaching in for the cake.

It’s not in the plastic container he had expected to find, the kind that they always use for leftovers. It’s in a big cake box that someone must have brought over, and more than three quarters of it remain.

Jun freezes at the weight in his hands as cold refrigerator air falls to his shins. The party must have been over really, really fast.

When Jun returns to the living room, Seungcheol has his fingers steepled in front of his chin and is pressing his mouth to them. His eyes are vacant. He doesn't look up even after Jun sets the box in the place where Seungcheol’s breakfast used to be.

“I brought cake,” Jun says, mouth quickly going dry.

“Get me a beer.”

Wonwoo presses his lips into a thin line. “Cheol, you just woke up with a hangover.”

“And I'm about to get another one. Hand me a beer.”

Exasperated and concerned, Wonwoo lowers his voice. “It's not even noon, and you—”

“ _I_ don't want to sit back and remember a thing about last night while I’m sober!”

Seungcheol’s eyes snap up to meet Wonwoo’s when he says this, fiery and challenging. Jun is too shocked to speak, but Wonwoo only glares back, equally fierce.

“You're not sober, and if you keep drinking, you won't ever be.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Seungcheol is sitting perfectly still, those eyes terrifyingly clear like cut glass, but his voice quivers with some emotion he’s fighting down. “You think you know everything, but you don't. No one wants to be sober when they break up, Wonwoo.”

There’s no way that the beer bottles in the fridge aren't trembling, too. Jun’s ears throb with the noiseless clinks of rearranging them with his hands.

The spell breaks when Wonwoo gets up from the seat he had taken across from Seungcheol, biting his teeth and shaking his head. “Get them yourself.”

 

* * *

 

“Do you know the old guy who usually drove around this area?”

Today’s most notable passenger is a man who looks so young that Jun had hesitated between giving him a ride and calling a social worker. One well-placed glower from the man and Jun quickly determined that yes, he was an adult, and not one to cross at that. Despite his cute appearance, the man had curtly entrusted Jun with an address and then proceeded to gaze stubbornly out the window, looking bothered. The aloof passenger hadn't spoken another word until they passed the last traffic light. That’s when the monologue began.

“Like, he was pretty young for a cab driver, kind of like you. Black hair, long eyelashes? Annoyingly talkative and disgustingly nice?”

As he talks, the man’s gruff voice betrays his curiosity. Jun keeps his mouth closed and eyes on the road, poking his tongue around his teeth to keep himself focused on his job.

“I think his name was Seungcheol,” the passenger says airily, though Jun can see his sharp eyes gauging his reaction through the mirror.

Jun does his best to act natural as he pulls up at the curb in front of a record shop. He holds his foot on the brake.

“He’s not a cab driver anymore,” Jun says.

“Oh,” the man says, his gaze turning detached again as he pays the fare. Faraway. “He was nice.”


	3. "I totally didn't recognize you."

Wonwoo fixes a bed for Seungcheol in his apartment, but Seungcheol insists on the couch. Seungcheol also insists on sending Jun and Wonwoo on beer runs (only half-jokingly). Jun is tempted, but Wonwoo doesn't even turn to see Seungcheol’s hopeful face before glowering at the both of them and saying no. Out of all of them, including the dumpee himself, Wonwoo is the best-equipped to wrangle Seungcheol when he’s in one of these self-deprecating moods.

Despite his vocality on how things are run around Wonwoo’s apartment, Seungcheol never brings up the ex that landed him there. Once, when Seungcheol was really drunk, Jun caught him lamenting over how he should have memorized his ex’s credit card number. That's about it.

Then one night when he’s crashing at Wonwoo’s apartment, Jun is on his way to the kitchen when he hears Seungcheol murmur the word “ultimatum” from the couch and nearly jumps out of his skin. He whirls around, but Seungcheol is conked out. Jun relaxes until he notices the sweat on Seungcheol's brow and the tightness of his expression. And the way his lips are still moving, spewing a litany of gibberish.

Jun hesitates, gripping his phone as if it might ground him. Then he walks away from the kitchen, shoving it deep into his pocket, and reaches for Seungcheol.

“Cheol, you're dreaming,” he tries, giving Seungcheol’s shoulder a shake. The nickname sounds awkward on his lips. “Nightmaring? Seungcheol, it's me, J—”

Seungcheol jolts up, his hand gripping Jun’s wrist like a vise. His eyes are dark and wild, all pupils and no light. Jun pulls. Seungcheol holds him in place. Seungcheol is saying something. Seungcheol is saying a lot of things, but Jun can't hear through the alarmed buzzing in his ears. Fumbling behind him with his free hand, Jun nearly upends the lamp that he's trying to turn on.

Seungcheol’s pupils shrink, his hand no longer squeezing. Dazed.

“Jun?” he asks, mouth slack. Face pale.

Finishing a sentence that Jun doesn't remember and doesn't bother to.

“It's Jun,” Jun confirms, the words oddly like breakfast, but makes no further move.

There's a collection of empty beer bottles littering the couch. It glows a dim orange in the lamplight like an alien throne.

Jun’s arm feels stiff, frozen, where Seungcheol connects to it. Seungcheol looks down, surprised, and recoils like he’s the one who has been burned. The sudden emptiness leaves Jun’s wrist rubbing against raw air. The skin tingles. There are no marks.

Wonwoo walks in, rumpled from sleep. Jun is still rooted disbelievingly to the spot. Seungcheol is bewildered.

Wonwoo glances between Seungcheol's cradled hand and Jun’s exposed wrist and says nothing for a while. Jun wonders what Wonwoo must be seeing. Jun wonders what he is seeing, feeling like they are at a strange impasse and unsure how to break it.

Then his phone rings.

“You should probably get that.”

“I probably should.”

Jun gives Wonwoo a long look, as if expecting him to add something more but receiving nothing of the sort. Wonwoo’s eyes are shrouded. Jun steps back into the hallway outside Wonwoo’s apartment as the rest of the world refuses to move, closing the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

“Last night,” Seungcheol says, but Jun shakes his head.

“It happens.”

And just like that, an agreement is reached.

 

* * *

 

“Are you sure you don’t want to throw a party this week?”

“ _It doesn’t seem like that great of a time for a party, Jun_.”

Wonwoo’s voice is tired. Jun bites his lip, wondering just how much sleep Wonwoo got last night.

“I know. It’s just that you’ve never skipped a party before. Not even in college. You just set up all the food and camped in the kitchen with your textbooks spread out all over the floor. I think I dropped an entire bottle of vinegar on your anatomy book once.”

“ _You did. It was mesmerizingly gross_ ,” Wonwoo placidly agrees. “ _And then you made it up to me by taking me out to dinner_.”

“I did. And I’d do it again in a heartbeat.”

“ _Ruin my favorite textbook_?”

Jun laughs, almost hitting his horn before he catches himself. “No! Take you out to dinner.”

Wonwoo pauses. “ _I'll be holding you to it_.”

Jun looks down, playing his fingers over the wheel. Softly, as if scared of scaring him away, he asks, “I didn't wake you last night, did I?”

“ _You didn't_.”

Jun didn't. He exhales, knowing that he can believe that much. There's something that Wonwoo isn't saying.

“Wonwoo, why were you up?”

“ _Jun, why did your phone ring_?”

As the sudden silence of their call drags on, Jun stares out at the parallel-parked cars around him and has the painful feeling that although he left the apartment, this inexplicable impasse is still stretching stiflingly around them.

Jun doesn't realize that the call has disconnected until his eyes zero in on a man waving for a taxi farther down the street. He’s wearing a white baseball cap that makes his head bright like an egg, even in daylight. Jun pulls the phone away from his ear, taking a moment to stare, dumbfounded, at the notification that his call has ended, and reluctantly puts it away.

Jun adjusts his mirrors and checks his surroundings before maneuvering the little cab out of the parking space. Duty calls.

It's rare to give a ride to someone you know. Usually, all the rides Jun gives his prior acquaintances are preplanned.

Maybe that's why he’s so surprised when his passenger takes off his baseball cap, runs his hand through his recently-trimmed bangs, and gives him a familiar residential address.

Jun turns around.

“Joshua?”

“Jun?”

They gape at each other for a while. Wide-eyed. Still pulled over. Joshua looks away first, flushing in embarrassment. Laughing a little, too.

Jun is jolted back to his job. He flexes his hands on the wheel, reassesses his surroundings, and pulls away from the curb before they draw too many weird looks.

“What are the chances?” Joshua marvels in that soft voice of his. “I totally didn't recognize you.”

“Me neither,” Jun agrees.

“Was it the hair?”

“It was the snapback, actually,” Jun says. Having this kind of small talk feels more than strange after having spent so much time with Wonwoo and Seungcheol and strangers. Like going back to an old language in a new place. “I missed you at the party last Friday. How are you?”

“The usual,” Joshua shrugs, holding his hat in his lap. He runs his tongue along his teeth distractedly before venturing, “What about you guys and Seungcheol? Mingyu mentioned that he's crashing at Wonwoo's apartment now. He . .” Joshua hesitates, voice dropping. He settles with a quiet “He wasn't in the best shape when I last saw him.”

Seungcheol, grasping Jun’s wrist. Seungcheol, whispering the word “ultimatum” and shaking in his sleep.

“He’s still processing,” Jun decides. It seems like the easiest way to describe it. Seeing Joshua's anxious expression in the mirror, he adds, “You could come visit if you want? I don't think Wonwoo would mind you stopping by during the day.”

Joshua shakes his head so hard that his hat nearly becomes a new blindspot.

“Seungcheol would,” Joshua says, his voice full of grim certainty. He smiles, but it's bittersweet. “You weren't there to see how mad he was. I think I might steer clear of this week’s party too, you know?”

“There’s no party this week,” Jun says.

Joshua doesn’t ask why. Maybe he doesn’t have to.

It’s a scary idea, that Joshua doesn’t even look surprised at the sudden end of one of their longstanding group traditions.

“Seungcheol was drunk that night,” Jun says into the cab as he slows down at a yellow light a block away from Joshua’s building.

Jun isn’t sure what propels him to say it, to put it out there. Jun isn’t sure what straws he’s grasping at or why.

Joshua’s gaze drifts off, seeing something that Jun can’t.

“Who says Seungcheol won't be drunk during the day, too?”

When Joshua pays Jun at the end of the ride, he adds a little extra tip, and Jun is too conflicted to raise any protest. Then Joshua pulls his baseball cap low over his face and starts up to the apartment he shares with Mingyu. He doesn't look back.

Jun watches the entrance close behind him and can't help wondering what it would be like to actually live with one’s boyfriend instead of being split in two directions at once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (it took me way too long to realize the inadvertent pun at "steer clear"; it's funny, the things we notice after time has passed)
> 
> (hope you have a good night)


End file.
